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Tke Royal Page 

and 

Other Stories for Children 

By R U N A 

u^- . L 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



ROCK ISLAND 

AUGUSTANA BOOK CONCERN 


COPYRIGHT, 1920, 

BY 

Augustana Book Concern 



W 



©Cl. A597318 
MG 3U f&20 


contents; 


The Royal Page 5 

The Isle of Felicity 73 

The King and the Goatherd 103 

“No Robber in the Forest” 119 




'T'HERE was once a little girl whose 
name was Gunhild. She lived long, 
long ago, when the world was young, and 
her home was in the deep recesses of a 
mighty forest, where scarlet strawberries 
grew on sunny hillsides and the bluest of 
huckleberries dotted the turf. These lu- 
scious berries Gunhild would gather indus- 
triously, for they formed a welcome addi- 
tion to her often scanty fare. Not far 
from the cottage a lake lay bedded in the 
woods. Here the father would fish when 
he was not hunting in the forest, or sleep- 
ing on the sheepskin rug before the fire- 
place where the mother would prepare the 
food secured from lake or forest. 

Gunhild was a great source of help to 
5 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


both her parents. Now it must be men- 
tioned that Gunhild had two full costumes ; 
but you are not to think that one was her 
Sunday frock and the other her everyday 
dress. Gunhild’s people did not even know 
that there was such a day as Sunday, and 
for them every day was a working-day. 
The explanation of Gunhild’s two costumes 
is this, that one was a boy’s suit and the 
other the usual apparel of a girl. When 
she helped her mother prepare the meals, 
scrub the cottage floor, spin or sew, she 
was of course dressed as a girl; but when 
she accompanied her father on his hunting 
and fishing expeditions, or helped him at 
wood-chopping in the forest, she wore her 
boy’s attire. 

She was also the proud owner of a* bow 
and arrows, and such was her skill and 
prowess that she had brought down the 
mighty eagle on the wing. She also pos- 
sessed her own spinning wheel and hand 
loom, and she had acquired such dexterity 
in spinning yarn, weaving cloth, and sew- 
6 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


ing garments for her parents and herself 
that the products of her nimble fingers 
were good enough for a prince to wear. 
But then, you see, she always did her very 
best. 

Gunhild grew up strong and vigorous; 
laughed and sang at her work the livelong 
day, and never deemed any task too diffi- 
cult to perform. Long flaxen hair she had, 
and eyes as blue as the sky mirrored in 
the lake. Her cheeks were round and 
rosy, and had a trick of dimpling when 
she laughed. Her arms, though strong, 
were soft and pliant, and would often steal 
across her father's stooped shoulders or 
twine about her mother's neck. At such 
times their weary old eyes would sparkle, 
and, nodding meaningly, the one would 
say to the other : 

“Thanks to King Grim, a ray of sun- 
shine has entered our lives. ‘It's an ill 
wind blows nobody any good.' " 

When she asked who King Grim was, 
she always received evasive replies. Fa- 

7 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


ther and mother knew something which 
they did not wish to tell their little girl. 
Why bother her little head about it, then, 
thought Gunhild, who was again twitter- 
ing merrily as a bird. 

Father and mother were so old that 
they really ought to have been Gurihild’s 
grandpa and grandma. At last their 
backs became so bent with age and their 
eyes so dim that they could not look up to 
the sky, but had to ask Gunhild whether 
it was clear or cloudy. The day came 
when they could no longer leave the cot- 
tage. Then it was Gunhild who did the 
fishing and hunting, cooked the food and 
cared for her old parents. Worn and 
weary, they sat in their nook by the fire- 
place often lamenting disconsolately: 

'‘Child, child, you are wearing yourself 
out for our sake.” 

“Certainly not,” was Gunhild’s merry 
reply. “I’m having great sport playing 
that I am father and mother to you and 


8 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


that you are my children. Now be good 
little children, do you hear?” 

She laughed so merrily that the aged 
couple forgot their anxiety and smiled in 
sympathy with her. 

One day father said: “You remember, 
mother, the ancient tradition of our land 
that children who are kind to their elders 
will live long and prosper.” 

“I remember it well,” replied mother, 
who always agreed with father in all 
things. 

“Just think how our Gunhild will pros- 
per all her days !” father mused. 

“Just think of it!” mother agreed. 

And this thought comforted them when 
they noted the untiring labors of Gunhild. 

At last the aged couple felt that their 
days were numbered, wherefore they sum- 
moned Gunhild and said to her: 

“The time has come for us to reveal the 
secret which we have kept from you so 
long. — Gunhild, you are not our own 
child.” 


9 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


A burst of tears was Gunhild’s answer 
to this amazing revelation, and so great 
was her grief that some time passed be- 
fore she was sufficiently calm to hear the 
rest of the story. 

“How she loves us!” the old people 
whispered wonderingly, while Gunhild 
kissed their wrinkled faces until they 
shone with tender satisfaction. 

“No, Gunhild,” continued the old man, 
“you are no poor man's child as you have 
supposed. Your father was a powerful 
king and your mother a beautiful queen. 
Surely, that should not make you weep, 
my child.” 

“I’m crying because father is not my 
father and mother is not my mother,” 
sobbed Gunhild. 

“Listen, my child,” the old man contin- 
ued, “your royal father is dead, as is also 
your mother ; but your uncle lives, and — 
mark this — he is the cruel King Grim. 
Him you must fear and shun, for he is 
seeking after you to put you to death. 

10 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


When your parents died, we fled with you, 
knowing that your uncle sought to kill 
you, that he might have undisputed pos- 
session of the kingdom. Here, deep in the 
forest, we concealed you so well that he 
has not been able to find you, though he 
has searched for you far and wide 
throughout the kingdom and even in 
neighboring lands. Note well our advice 
to you. You must remain in hiding until 
King Grim is dead. Always go dressed as 
a boy, for your uncle knows that his 
brother’s child was a girl; and hence he 
will never suspect a boy. When he is 
dead, the time is come for you to tell the 
people who you are. Then, I trust, they 
will make you queen for your noble fa- 
ther’s sake. Mother and I will not live to 
see that day. We have long hoped for 
this, but, alas, we must die with our hopes 
still unfulfilled.” 

“But will the people believe my story? 
Surely, there is nothing to prove that I 
am the king’s daughter,” Gunhild ex- 
11 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


claimed, not because she cared to become 
queen so much as she desired to realize 
the fond hopes that her foster parents had 
cherished for her these many years. 

'‘When the time comes, truth and right 
will prevail,’’ declared the old man. 

The aged couple gave Gunhild their final 
blessing, thanking her for all that she had 
meant to them, and both died soon after. 

So Gunhild was left all alone in the 
world. Without repining, she tenderly 
buried her foster parents, dressed herself 
as a boy, slung the bow over her shoulder, 
filled the quiver with arrows, and went 
forth into the world; for she could not 
bear to remain in the lonely cottage with 
father and mother both sleeping under the 
sod in the forest. 

The first person she met was a knight 
of the road. 

“Good morning, comrade,” he hailed. 
“What may your name be?” 

“Gunhild,” replied the girl, clad though 
she was in boy’s attire. 

12 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“Ho, ho; ha, ha!” laughed the traveler. 
“A boy named Gunhild! Funniest thing 
Fve ever heard ! Ho, ho ; ha, ha !” 

And so the knight of the highway pro- 
ceeded on his way, chuckling at the 
thought of a boy with a girl's name. 

From this encounter Gunhild under- 
stood that if she were to pass as a boy, 
she must change her name. She promptly 
decided to call herself Gunnar which, after 
all, was only a partial change. 

So she continued on her way until she 
met a wandering beggar. 

“Good morning, comrade!” he shouted. 
“What is your name if I may be so bold 
as to ask?” 

“Gunnar,” she replied promptly. 

“Gunnar, a pretty name, indeed. But 
why those long, flowing locks?” the beg- 
gar asked mockingly. “If I were you, I 
would cut them off; otherwise every one 
will take you for a girl, and you don't 
want that, I’m sure.” 

No, she was quite sure she did not want 
13 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


that, and so she asked the beggar to cut 
off her long golden hair. He promptly 
complied with her request. 

“What a little fool you are, Gunnar," he 
remarked, carefully thrusting the priceless 
locks into his bag. “You might have sold 
your locks for a large sum of money, but 
now it is I who will be the gainer. I will 
go to the royal palace and sell yOur locks 
to be made into a wig for some court 
dame, perhaps even for the baldheaded 
queen herself. Never, I'm sure, has she 
seen hair to match this in beauty and col- 
or. What a little fool you were, Gunnar !" 

But Gunnar only laughed and said: 
“You are welcome to all you can get for it. 
But if you are at least half as honest as 
you are jubilant, you will give me a crust 
of bread in return. ,, 

“There's a plucky, good-hearted lad," 
exclaimed the beggar. “Since you do not 
grudge me my good fortune, you shall have 
all the bread I have in my bag." 

So it came about that Gunnar ate his fill 


14 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


and parted amicably with his strange 
friend. 

Now Gunnar fared forth into the wide 
world, seeking service at every farmstead 
to which he came. Food he obtained spar- 
ingly, foolish advice in abundance, but no 
employment. He was too small, too frail, 
and even his merry humor was pointed 
out to him as a grave fault. In vain he 
pleaded for a chance to show what he 
could do: no one would listen to him, no 
one believed that he had any qualities oth- 
er than kindness and good humor. 

Finally in the course of his wanderings 
he arrived at the king's palace. For some 
time he lingered before the castle gates, in 
doubt whether he should venture in or 
not, but at last curiosity prevailed over his 
fears. Too strong for him to resist was 
the opportunity afforded of beholding his 
royal uncle and aunt, and his cousins, if 
there were any, and the whole royal court 
besides, where he should now be reigning 
as queen. The very danger of encounter- 
15 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


ing King Grim added zest to the ad- 
venture. 

At Kingsburg, for so the castle was 
called, a grand festival was just then be- 
ing celebrated. Knights in shining armor 
and ladies in white and azure blue were 
strolling over lowered drawbridges and 
along the sanded paths in the park. Nu- 
merous small pages were in attendance, 
carrying the sweeping trains of the court 
ladies, or the swords of their lords, or pass- 
ing around luscious fruits on silver trays. 

'‘Oh, I wish I were a page!” sighed Gun- 
nar as he entered the castle gates. 

“Halt!” thundered the gate guard. No 
one enters here without court dress.” 

But just as he was about to eject Gun- 
nar forcibly, he stopped abruptly and 
bowed to the ground before Prince Sven- 
ning, King Grim’s only son and heir, who 
happened to be passing. 

Instantly Gunnar noticed that the Prin- 
ce’s sword had become unclasped from his 
belt and threatened to fall to the ground. 

16 

































































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“The queen seemed offended, and the king eyed him 
with the keenness of aroused suspicion ” Page 25. 



THE ROYAL PAGE 


“Wait a moment!” cried Gunnar, ever 
willing to be of service. 

Dumb with amazement, the gate guard 
raged inwardly at the boundless effrontery 
of one who dared to address a prince as 
though he were a common mortal. But 
the prince stopped and surveyed with evi- 
dent pleasure the sturdy lad who with 
nimble fingers made fast the unclasped 
sword. 

“What is your name, my lad?” the 
prince inquired. 

“Gunnar, sir.” 

“And your parents?” 

“They are dead, sir.” 

“Poor lad ! And why do you not appear 
in court dress?” 

“Because, sir, I have never been at court 
before. But oh, sir, I would so like to 
be your page!” 

Gunnar looked up into Prince Svenning’s 
face with such a pleading expression 
in his blue eyes that the prince could not 
resist him. 

17 


The Royal Page. 2. 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“I like you, boy/’ he declared, ‘‘but I 
never take anyone into my service with- 
out first testing his merits. Let me see 
what you can do. Let me see how you 
handle the bow you carry.” 

Without replying, Gunnar seized his bow 
and arrow, and aimed at a golden eagle 
circling aloft so high that it appeared a 
mere speck in the sky. The bowstring 
twanged, and the arrow sped unerringly 
on its way, piercing the heart of the king 
of birds. With loud flappings of mighty 
wings the huge bird fell from its airy 
heights, appearing ever larger as it neared 
the ground, until it fell with a crash at the 
very feet of the prince, who pronounced 
it the largest and finest eagle that had ever 
been shot in the kingdom. 

“An excellent archer !” exclaimed the 
prince. “From this day you are the chief 
of my pages. Where did you get your 
splendid bow? It seems as frail as your 
self, and yet with it you have made a 
marvelous shot. ,, 


18 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“My foster father made the bow. He 
knew how a good bow was to be made/’ 
declared Gunnar flushed with pleasure 
alike at the praise and the fulfilment of 
his hopes. 

“Why, lad, you blush like a girl,” the 
prince said banteringly. 

At this Gunnar only blushed the more. 

“Come now, my lad, you have nothing 
to be ashamed of,” said the prince sooth- 
ingly. “Go up to my chamberlain and 
present my commands that he fit you out 
with the newest and finest court dress for 
pages.” 

Gunnar promptly did as ordered. The 
chamberlain was a kind old man who as 
promptly obeyed the prince’s orders. From 
his window in the palace he had seen the 
golden eagle fall, and he had wondered 
who had made the splendid shot. 

When he gave voice to his wonder, Gun- 
nar declared that the shot was made by 
one who did not wear court dress. This 
only served the more to astonish the cham- 
19 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


berlain. for how could one outside the 
privileged court circle accomplish any- 
thing worth mentioning? 

“It isn’t the dress that makes the 
archer,” Gunnar declared. 

“What then?” asked the old man inno- 
cently. 

To this Gunnar made no reply. Instead 
he asked : “Tell me, what festival are they 
celebrating to-day?” 

At this the chamberlain clapped his 
hands in sheer amazement. 

“Haven’t you heard of the great miracle 
which took place last night? Our gracious 
queen, who was fast growing old and 
haggard, has in a single night grown 
young and beautiful again. In gratitude 
for this miracle, our noble king has ar- 
ranged this festival to celebrate the joyous 
occasion. Her glorious majesty, the queen, 
has suddenly been endowed with the most 
beautiful golden locks, soft as silk and 
shining as the sun. Wherever she goes, 
even the darkness of night turns to bright- 
est day.” 20 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


Gunnar longed to behold the queen’s 
wonderful hair. By this time he was fully 
dressed in his page’s costume of blue silk 
slashed with gold, and he stood wondering 
what the next turn of events for him 
would be. Then a message came to him 
from the prince, commanding his imme- 
diate presence in the courtyard, where he 
was to take his place at the head of the 
pages. The entire court was assembled, 
from the king himself to the lowliest 
kitchen maid, and all were to march in 
festive procession past the queen to con- 
gratulate her upon her renewed youth. 

Burning with eagerness to behold the 
queen’s beautiful hair, Gunnar sped down 
the stairs to the courtyard so rapidly that 
the chamberlain and the page who had 
summoned him were left behind. 

“What is the name of the new arrival ?” 
the chamberlain inquired, pointing to Gun- 
nar who was just then disappearing at 
a bend in the stairway. 

“His name is Gunnar, and though he 

21 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


has just arrived in rags at the castle, he 
is already the chief among us,” the page 
replied with manifest jealousy. 

“How is that?” asked the chamberlain. 
“What wonderful feat did he perform to 
win our gracious prince's favor so sud- 
denly?” 

“It was he who shot the golden eagle,” 
the page replied grudgingly. 

At this the chamberlain again fell into 
astonishment, not so much over the master 
shot as over Gunnar himself who had for- 
borne to boast of his exploit, and had not 
even mentioned that he had brought down 
the eagle. 

In the great banquet hall of the palace 
the queen sat on a golden throne, arrayed 
jn royal splendor, but the most beautiful 
thing about her was her shining locks. 

King Grim was the first to make obei- 
sance before the queen and to offer his 
congratulations. Then he mounted the 
steps to the throne and took his place to 
the right of the queen. 

22 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


After the king came a long line of no- 
bles, generals, and courtiers. With solemn, 
stately stride they marched around the 
hall, bowing to the floor when they passed 
the throne, after which they arranged 
themselves in a half-circle behind their 
royal master and mistress. Then came the 
tightly laced court ladies sweeping their 
long trains behind them. With many a 
curtsy and simper they took their places 
among the courtiers behind the throne. 

Suddenly merry trumpet calls were 
heard, and Prince Svenning appeared, 
dark-eyed and black-haired, clad in purple 
velvet. In his hand he bore a high-crowned 
red cap with sweeping black plumes. On 
bended knee he kissed the hand of his 
mother, who smiled graciously down upon 
him. Then he seated himself on a lower 
throne at the queen's left. 

Next after the prince came Gunnar, 
foremost among the pages. He felt em- 
barrassed by the magnificent splendor of 
the banquet hall, whose walls were mirrors 
23 


THE ROYAL PAGE 

framed with gold, multiplying endlessly 
the vast hall and its brilliant assembly. 
Eagerly Gunnar’s gaze sought the royal 
pair, and for the first time in his life he 
looked upon his uncle and aunt. The ap- 
pearance of King Grim did full justice to 
his name. The very peril of his situation 
fascinated Gunnar. When he looked into 
the treacherous eyes of the king, he real- 
ized that his own life was not worth a 
farthing, if his uncle should suspect who 
the new little page was. But when Gun- 
nar turned his gaze upon the queen, his 
eyes threatened to pop out of his head, 
and he would have stopped stock still had 
not the procession of pages pressed on 
from the rear. The miraculous head of 
hair that had renewed the queen’s youth 
and beauty — how well he recognized it! 
Its every lock, now so artistically ar- 
ranged, had but recently formed the tou- 
sled ornament of his own head. He realized 
that his shorn locks had indeed made a 
fortune for the beggar. The delighted 
24 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


queen had made him her hairdresser, 
whose duty it henceforth was to put up 
her hair every morning. There he stood 
among the courtiers behind the throne, 
anxiously eyeing Gunnar and wondering if 
he would betray him. But nothing was 
further from Gunnar’s mind. The tempta- 
tion to laugh became so strong that he had 
to bite his lip and try to think of some- 
thing unpleasant, and he really would have 
burst into a merry peal of laughter had 
not his turn now come to do homage to the 
queen. This sobered him instantly, and he 
prepared to act his part with all the solem- 
nity that the occasion demanded. 

But when he arrived before the throne, 
he entirely forgot that he was a boy and 
made the deepest of feminine curtsys. 

He noticed his mistake at once, for 
amusement lurked in the faces of some, 
while others were dumb with amazement 
and terror at this breach of court eti- 
quette. The queen seemed offended, and 
the king eyed him with the keenness of 
25 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


aroused suspicion. The other pages with- 
drew from Gunnar’s presence, while 
breathless suspense filled the great hall. 
How would the king punish such unheard 
of impudence? 

Prince Svenning, who had grown at- 
tached tp the fearless lad, resolved to save 
him. The prince knew very well that his 
page had forfeited his life by curtsying 
when he should have bowed; likewise he 
knew that once the sentence of death was 
pronounced, no hope of saving Gunnar 
remained; therefore he rose hastily and 
bending his knee to his father, and raising 
his vioce so that all could hear, he said : 

“0, Father and King, I do not ask thee 
to pardon my page, that would, indeed, be 
asking too much; for by his heedless act he 
has committed lese majesty, and deserves 
nothing but death. But he has just 
come to us from the deep forest and knows 
nothing of the customs of the court. That 
is his only excuse. As he is in my service 
it behooves me to mete out his punishment. 

26 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


Thou art too exalted, Father, to pronounce 
judgment upon a humble page.” 

Breathlessly all awaited the king’s 
reply. The young prince, so different from 
his father, was universally loved and ad- 
mired, hence there was no one who did 
not secretly hope that his prayer would be 
granted. Besides, the sympathy of all 
went out to the little page who stood there 
so erect and fearless, wondering what it 
was all about. But neither by word or 
look did anyone venture to support the 
petition of the prince. * Too well they knew 
King Grim and were amazed at the bold- 
ness of the prince. Even the queen seemed 
uneasy and troubled. 

The final words of the prince, so flatter- 
ing to the king’s vanity, had the desired 
effect and saved Gunnar. 

“You are right, my son,” he replied; 
“your page is too insignificant to become 
an object of my wrath. I leave his punish- 
ment to you on condition that you make 
it sufficienthly severe.” 

27 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“That I promise/’ replied the prince, 
repressing his gladness. 

Rising from his knees, the prince com- 
manded two of his pages to lead Gunnar 
away to the prison tower. Thereupon the 
king signaled with his hand for the proces- 
sion to resume its march. 

“When you have determined upon a suit- 
able punishment, I desire that you inform 
me of it,” whispered the king to his son. 

The prince bowed in token of obedience, 
but his heart grew sad, for now he must 
invent a more severe punishment for his 
poor page than he had intended. 

For three whole days Gunnar languished 
in his prison cell while the prince was 
vainly trying to discover some punishment 
that would seem more terrible than it 
really was. At last he hit upon a plan 
which he thought would appeal to his 
father. 

“Gracious King and Father,” he said, 
“as my page offended the majesty of my 
queen mother by a feminine curtsy, I 
28 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


have determined with your gracious per- 
mission that for the next six months 
he shall be employed in the services and 
labors of a woman. He is to receive no 
help or instruction, and whenever he 
blunder she shall be punished severely.” 

“That sounds fine,” exclaimed King 
Grim, “and I hereby decree that for every 
blunder he shall receive twenty-five lashes 
at the hands of my sturdiest yeoman.” 

The wicked king’s eyes gleamed mali- 
ciously when he noted how sad his son be- 
came at this royal decree. But though 
Svenning’s whole soul rebelled against it, 
he was powerless to alter it. He realized 
that all now depended on the alertness of 
his bright young page. He could only 
hope that Gunnar would not blunder too 
often, for twenty-five cruel lashes could 
not be repeated very often without causing 
the death of the lad. 

Gunnar’s first feminine task was to pre- 
pare a supper for his young master. Male 
cooks were unknown in the days of King 
29 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


Grim, wherefore the preparation of meals 
was considered a purely feminine task. 

“However unappetizing the supper may 
be,” thought the prince, “I will consume 
it all, so that I may say that Gunnar has 
not blundered.” 

But when the supper was placed upon 
the table, the king appeared to partake of 
it. 

Svenning’s cheeks blanched with fear, 
but there was nothing for him to do but 
serve his father first before he ventured 
to taste the food himself. 

Now Gunnar had prepared just such 
dishes as he was accustomed to in the 
humble cottage in the far-away forest, 
and years of practice had so perfected his 
skill that every article of food that he set 
before the prince was excellently well pre- 
pared. And so simple was every dish that 
neither the king nor the prince had ever 
seen, much less tasted its like. Therefpre 
they believed that the various dishes 
must be choice indeed. 

30 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


King Grim tasted the food critically, 
smacked his lips, and searched for some 
ill flavor, but to his secret resentment he 
could detect no bad taste ; on the contrary 
he had to admit that he had never before 
tasted food so savory. The king was a 
pronounced gourmand, and the more he 
ate, the milder grew his disposition toward 
Gunnar, who consequently for that time, 
at least, escaped a flogging. 

Gunnar’s next feminine task was to 
spin seven huge skeins of yarn dyed in the 
royal purple and to weave of this a new 
costume for the prince. 

Two serving maids brought in to Gun- 
nar a spinning wheel and enormous tufts 
of flax, after which they lingered to see 
what he would do, hoping to have the laugh 
on him because of his awkwardness. But 
this time there was no cause for laughter, 
for Gunnar was well skilled in the art of 
spinning. How well he remembered the 
many times that he as Gunhild had spun 
the finest yarn for his dear old foster 
31 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


parents! It stood him in good stead now 
that in the old days he had always tried 
to spin his yarn so fine that it would be 
“fit for a prince.” 

When he was ready to weave the yarn 
into cloth, he began to pound away at the 
loom as if he had done nothing else 
all his life. The cloth was not only passed 
upon as acceptable, but was even praised 
by the most skillful of her majesty’s 
woman weavers. 

When the costume was to be cut and 
sewed, the prince condescended to come to 
Gunnar’s room to be fitted. He could not 
help laughing when he saw scissors and 
needle in the hands of his doughty page, 
for men tailors were as unknown as male 
cooks in those days. 

The completed costume fitted the prince 
like a glove, and again admiration and 
praise instead of a flogging fell to the lot 
of Gunnar. 

The same good fortune followed him in 
all the feminine tasks to which he was 
32 



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THE ROYAL PAGE 

set. Indeed, so clever did he prove to be 
that the prince began secretly to despise 
his page for his unmanly gifts. 

“You should have been a girl,” Prince 
Svenning said one day. “Perhaps your 
master shot at the eagle was only a piece 
of good luck, after all.” 

“Give me back my bow and I will show 
you,” Gunnar retorted. 

“The six months of your probation will 
soon be ended, then your manhood shall 
be put to the test,” declared the prince. 
“See that you prove yourself worthy to be 
my page.” 

These words afforded Gunnar much food 
for thought. He did so love his handsome 
and kind-hearted master, and he wished 
on no account to be despised by him. So 
he determined in his heart to stake his 
very life, if need be, to prove his man- 
hood. 

When the six months were ended, Gun- 
nar was restored to his former duties of 
page. These duties were many and varied. 

33 


The Royal Page. 3 . 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


At night he slept on a rug before the door 
of the prince's bedchamber; when morn- 
ing came he stood ready to hand the prince 
his hat, to clasp the sword to his side, to 
hold the stirrup when his master mounted 
his steed, and in short to make himself 
generally useful. At mealtime he stood 
behind the prince's chair, ready to replen- 
ish his plate or fill his goblet. All this 
was done so promptly and deftly as to 
win his master’s favor, but as yet no op- 
portunity had come for him to prove his 
manhood. 

In a niche over the castle gates there 
stood a small iron casket visible to all who 
approached the king's domicile. Gunnar 
had often noticed it and wondered what 
was in it, but he had never been curious 
enough to ask any questions about it. He 
had, however, observed that the massive 
door posts of the gate were so carved as 
to form an ornamental stairway up to the 
niche containing the casket. 

Early one morning while most of the 
34 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


castle inmates were still asleep, he hap- 
pened to observe the casket, and at once 
determined to obtain a nearer view of it. 

His small feet found no difficulty in as- 
cending to the niche. As he bent forward 
to examine the curious casket, he noticed 
the following inscription on the cover: 

“Open, and the kingdom is thine.” 

“That,” thought Gunnar, “can’t be much 
of a trick as the key is in the lock.” 

And so it proved. With a single turn 
of the key the lid flew open. But to Gun- 
nar it seemed that there was nothing re- 
markable to see: only a huge, sparkling 
stone. He knew nothing about precious 
stones and therefore little realized the 
priceless value of this one. On closer 
inspection Gunnar perceived that there 
was also an inscription on the stone. In 
gleaming letters of fire he read : 

“RIGHT WILL PREVAIL.” 

While he was wondering what might be 
the meaning of all this, he heard his name 
called by one of the pages : 

35 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“Gunnar. where are you? Prince Sven- 
ning commands your attendance/’ 

“Coming,” Gunnar replied, hastily re- 
placing the stone and closing the lid of 
the casket. 

Just at that moment the other page came 
hurrying through the portal and discov- 
ered Gunnar on his lofty perch. 

“What are you doing up there? Aha! 
You have discovered the inscription and 
are trying the lock, are you?” he shouted, 
laughing derisively. “Useless labor, my 
friend. We have all tried that, for who 
does not desire to win a kingdom; but all 
have failed even as yourself. There is 
magic in that casket. Only he to whom 
the kingdom rightly belongs can open it.” 

“Has Kihg Grim ever opened it?” Gun- 
nar inquired. 

“I presume so, as he has inherited the 
kingdom from his brother.” 

“Has anyone seen him open the casket?” 

“No, I think not, but that isn’t neces- 
sary. Everybody knows that he is able to 
36 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


do it, and that Prince Svenning will learn 
the secret of the casket from him. ,, 

Chatting thus, the two pages had by 
this time entered the courtyard. 

“The . prince awaits you in his cham- 
ber,” were the parting words of Gunnar’s 
companion, who ment to resume his own 
work, which that morning was to strew 
flowers before the exit of the queen’s a- 
partments, if she should desire to take the 
air and go out for a morning stroll. 

Pondering upon his discovery, Gun- 
nar proceeded on his way. He had found 
a means of proving his identity and his 
just claim to the kingdom. He felt very 
sure that neither his uncle nor Svenning 
had opened the casket, nor indeed could do 
so ; and yet at his own touch it had opened 
instantly. But how should he manage to 
demonstrate his rights before the whole 
court and the entire nation? That was 
the problem which Gunnar had yet to 
'solve. 

When he entered the prince’s apart- 
37 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


ment, he found his master ready for a 
fencing bout. 

"Prepare to fence with me," the prince 
commanded. “I am minded to put your 
manhood to the test." 

Gunnar obeyed and the bout commenced. 
For once the little page was not equal 
to the occasion. He was small and quick 
in his movements, but manifested a woeful 
lack of experience in fencing. 

After a few minutes the prince lowered 
his foil and with a look of disgust con- 
templated his page, who stood there 
breathless and exhausted, while Prince 
Svenning himself gave no evidence of exer- 
tion. 

“You are a poor fencer," he declared. 
“I want some exercise. Go call Rupert; 
he* amounts to something." 

“If I only had some practice, I would 
make a better showing," wailed Gunnar 
sorrowfully, forgetting in the disappoint- 
ment over his failure that to him alone the 
mysterious casket had revealed its secret. 
38 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“I doubt that even with practice you 
would show much improvement.” retorted 
the prince. “Go call Rupert. I still main- 
tain that you should have been a girl.” 

Gunnar was seized by an impulse to say, 
“I am a girl,” and to entrust himself and 
his secret to Prince Svenning, when the 
latter cried sternly: 

“Well, why don't you obey?” 

His tone and look brought instant obe- 
dience, and on reflection Gunnar was glad 
that he had not yielded to his impulse. The 
right time and occasion, he realized, had 
not yet come. 

But when would it come? Perhaps 
after many years, perhaps never. After 
all, Gunnar entertained no strong desire 
to become queen; he was more anxious to 
regain his master’s favor. 

He concluded, therefore, to say nothing 
of the secret of the casket, and soon the 
incident had almost passed out of his mind. 

One day Prince Svenning set out upon 
a bear hunt in the depths of the forest. 

39 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


All his pages were in attendance. Gun- 
nar’s bow was slung across his shoulder, 
and his quiver full of arrows hung from 
his girdle. 

The hunting expedition neared the for- 
est. So lofty were its trees and so dense 
the interlacing of the branches that twi- 
light reigned within its depths even at 
midday. The caroling of birds could be 
heard in the treetops, while the howling 
of wolves and the fiercer growl of bears 
reached them from the recesses of the 
dense woods. 

Just as they entered the forest, the 
prince asked to borrow Gunnar’s bow, and 
without aiming at anything in particular 
he let fly an arrow among the trees. A 
wild howl gave evidence that the arrow 
had found a victim. One moment the cry 
pierced the air, then all was still. The 
shot had evidently proved fatal. 

“A good sign of hunter’s luck!” cried 
the prince merrily. 

But as his gaze happened to fall on Gun- 
40 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


nar, he noticed that his page had grown 
suddenly pale. 

“Are you afraid V’ the prince asked. 

“No, sir,” Gunnar replied, “but there 
was such anguish in yonder death-cry.” 

“If you are so sensitive, you are ill suited 
for the hunt,” said the prince tartly as he 
.spurred forward into the woods. 

The victim of the prince’s shot was soon 
found. It proved to be a monster wolf. 
There he lay in the shadow of a mighty 
oak. A single ray of sunlight penetrated 
the dense foliage and shone upon the bared 
teeth of the wolf. The arrow had pierced 
its body and buried itself in the ground. 

“Gunnar, what will you take for your 
bow? Never have I seen its like,” declared 
Prince Svenning with enthusiasm. 

“I’ll not sell the bow for anything in the 
world,” declared Gunnar. “Give it back 
to me.” 

He reached out his hand to receive his 
weapon, but the prince only stared at him 
with amazement. 


41 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“You will not?” he cried wrathfully. 
“Don’t you know that you and all that you 
possess are mine? I can throw you into 
the tower or slay you on the spot if I 
choose.” 

“Do so, but let me die with my precious 
bow in my hands,” pleaded the page. 

Instantly the prince’s anger cooled. 

“You are a strange lad,” he exclaimed. 
“Granted that your bow is of the best — 
but to be willing to die rather than part 
with it! There must be some special rea- 
son for your attachment to it.” 

“It was the last thing my foster father 
made for me before he became too old and 
weak to do anything,” Gunnar answered. 

“Here, take your bow! I would not 
deprive you of that memento of a love 
dear to you heart,” exclaimed the prince 
warmly, his anger already past. 

, Gunnar’s eyes sparkled as he pressed 
the bow lovingly to his breast. 

Thereupon the hunting party pressed 
onward into the forest. The chase grew 
42 


THE ROYAL PAGE 

fast and furious. Many a huge bear and 
stately stag, many a prowling wolf and 
magnificent elk succumbed to their prow- 
ess. Prince Svenning’s cheeks glowed 
with eagerness, and the merry voices of 
the pages mingled with the peals of the 
hunting horn. 

It was soon noticed by the others that 
Gunnar never made a shot except when it 
was necessary to put some wounded ani- 
mal out of its misery. The pages began 
to deride him for his seeming cowardice. 
At first htey were cautious about this, for 
they feared the prince, whose favorite 
Gunnar was; but when the prince hap- 
pened to overhear their jest and smiled at 
them, they grew bolder. Gunnar, how- 
ever, remained unmoved, pretending not 
to hear them. 

“Have you killed any game by your 
unaided effort during the hunt, Gunnar?” 
the prince asked him when they were eat- 
ing their evening meal around the camp 
fire several days later. 

43 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


At this question curious glances were 
past upon him by the assembled company. 
All wondered how he would twist his an- 
swer so as to appear in the most favorable 
light. To their astonishment he made no 
attempt at evasion but answered frankly 
that he had killed none but wounded game 
^during the many days of the hunt. 

“And still you have the best bow in the 
company,” exclaimed the prince. 

“He has forfeited his bow,” one of the 
pages remarked. 

“His master shot at the eagle was sheer 
Juck,” declared another. 

“He has forgotten how to aim,” asserted 
a third, with mouth wide open to swallow 
a potato which, however, was destined 
pever to touch his palate. 

With lightning speed Gunnar seized his 
bow and sped an arrow between the very 
Jips of the scoffer, splitting the potato and 
sending its fragments in all directions. 
A general burst of laughter greeted this 
exploit. 


44 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“I merely wished to show you that I can 
aim.” said Gunnar smiling at his com- 
rade's look of dismay. 

“But, why don't you display your skill 
in the chase?'' questioned the prince when 
the merriment had subsided. 

“Enough game is being killed without 
my help,” Gunnar declared firmly. 

“Can too much game be killed at a royal 
hunt?” cried the prince, highly displeased. 

“I can’t help thinking it nasty to wound 
and kill in mere sport,” declared Gunnar 
sturdily. 

“Sissy!” shouted Prince Svenning in a 
towering rage. 

Night fell and all disposed themselves 
to sleep about the camp fire. Two pages 
were placed on guard to replenish the fire 
during the night. But somehow their 
eyes grew heavy with sleep, and before 
long they were lost to the world. 

Suddenly Prince Svenning was awak- 
ened by a peculiar sniffing near his head, 
and then he felt a warm breath in his face. 

45 


THE ROYAL PAGE 

Alarmed he opened his eyes and beheld 
the head of a huge bear swinging his head 
back and forth over him. Bruin puffed 
and sniffed about the prince as if in pleased 
anticipation of a toothsome meal. 

The prince saw the mighty paw raised 
and thought that his last hour had come. 

But suddenly a little form hurled itself 
between the bear and the prince. It was 
Gunnar, who had awakened and perceived 
his master's peril. Without thought of 
personal danger he flung himself upon the 
bear's uplifted paw. 

Taken somewhat aback, bruin leered 
with his small piggish eyes upon the frail 
creature that ventured to dispute his title 
to an appetizing princely meal. Sniffing 
with vexation, the bear thrust Gunnar 
aside with one sweep of his paw, and with 
no greater effort than if the page had been 
a mere feather. 

But the little page was up and at him 
again. No time now to fetch his bow 
which was hanging from the branch of a 
46 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


tree. His only hope was to attack with 
his bare fists. Such impudence somewhat 
confused bruin, who, taking the lad in his 
embrace, lumbered away with him, ap- 
parently reasoning that Gunnar would 
make at least a few mouthfuls for the cubs 
hungrily awaiting their supper. 

All this had happened in a few seconds, 
and in less time than it takes to tell it. 

By this time the prince was on his feet 
and the sleeping pages were aroused. Bows 
were snatched from where they hung and 
a shower of arrows sent after the retreat- 
ing bear who must have been hit in many 
places, for he suddenly grew weak and sat 
down. A fresh shower of arrows ended 
his existence. Gunnar dropped from his 
embrace as the beast crumpled up on 
the ground. 

The prince, outrunning the others, lifted 
Gunnar in his arms, anxiously searching 
for some trace of life. The lad’s eyes were 
closed and his face deathly pale. Never 
had Gunnar’s features seemed so femi- 
47 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


ninely fine and soft as now when he had 
fully proved his claim to manhood. 

Silently the company surrounded the 
prince and his burden. All thought that 
Gunnar had died to save his master’s life. 
But finally Prince Svenning, after having 
brought his face close to the parted lips 
of the lad, declared joyfully, “He still 
lives.” 

At these words all heaved a sigh of 
relief. They realized now how much they 
admired their little comrade, though they 
had derided him so unmercifully. Few if 
any among them would have ventured to 
attack with empty hands a full-grown 
bear. Never again would they accuse Gun- 
nar of cowardice. 

Tenderly the prince laid his page on the 
moss-covered ground and began his efforts 
to restore him to consciousness. In this 
he soon succeeded. The lad opened his 
eyes and looked around until his gaze final- 
ly rested upon the prince, who was bend- 
ing over him. 


48 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“You have risked your life for me, Gun- 
nar,” the prince declared. “You have 
proved convincingly your claim to man- 
hood.^ 

The eyes of the page sparkled with hap- 
piness, though his blushing cheeks again 
threatened to belie the truth of the prince’s 
declaration. 

That bear proved to be the last victim 
of the hunt, for when Gunnar had some- 
what regained his strength, the hunting 
party set out for home. 

But upon their arrival at Kingsburg 
they were met by the astounding news of 
strange happenings during their absence. 
King Grim had discovered that the queen’s 
new hair was not the result of a mirac- 
ulous growth, as she had asserted; but 
false hair skilfully shaped into a periwig. 
The king’s anger at the deception was 
terrible, and the more so that he had been 
led to proclaim a thanksgiving festival in 
honor of the miracle. The queen was cast 
into the tower and condemned to die of 
starvation. 49 


The Royal Page. 4 . 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


Prince Svenning was grievously dis- 
turbed by this news. He' dearly loved his 
mother who had never harmed even the 
meanest of her subjects, and whose only 
failing was her inordinate vanity. Hum- 
bly he approached his father and begged 
for his mother’s life. When this was 
denied him, he grew angry and threatened 
rebellion. 

With a sardonic smile the king ordered 
his men-at-arms to cast the prince into the 
tower, and him, too, he condemned to die 
of starvation. Soon the town was full of 
people who had dared to plead for the un- 
happy queen and prince, but whose only 
reward was to share a similar fate. 

At first hopeless despair filled Gunnar’s 
heart, and his impulse was to plead with 
the king for his beloved prince; not with 
any hope of saving him, but that he might 
be privileged to die with him. But hap- 
pily better counsel prevailed. He observed 
the seething unrest and disaffection that 
filled the minds of the populace against 
50 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


the cruel King. It needed only some man 
of courage and resolution to take advan- 
tage of this situation and cause the down- 
fall of King Grim. Gunnar felt that the 
hour had struck for him to resume his 
true personality as Gunhild and seize the 
kingdom as his rightful inheritance. He 
would not now be taking this step from 
selfish motives, but to save the queen, the 
prince, and all the other wretched crea- 
tures who were languishing in the tower. 
But it behooved him to move with extreme 
caution. 

The cruel king had taken a special lik- 
ing to Gunnar since the day when the 
latter had delighted the royal palate with 
a well prepared meal. In consequence the 
little page had access to the apartments 
and person of the king. 

One evening Gunnar was playing chess 
with the king, as the king’s customary op- 
ponent in chess was starving in the tower 
for having dared to intercede in the 
queen’s behalf. Game after game the page 
51 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


lost purposely, and yet so tactfully that the 
king gloated over his skill as a player and 
was in great good humor with himself and 
all the world. 

“Your majesty ought to arrange for a 
feast,” suggested Gunnar. 

“Why so, you little glutton? Are you 
not satisfied with your daily fare?” 
growled the king, who thought that he 
scented treason in the suggestion. 

“Indeed, I am,” Gunnar hastened to 
reply. “The feast should not be given on 
my account, but to annoy the prisoners in 
the tower. Imagine their torture as spec- 
tators at a feast of which they could not 
partake.” 

“There is truth in what you say, and I 
will consider your suggestion,” said the 
king. 

“But, your Majesty, do not take too 
much time for consideration. The feast 
ought to be given to-morrow, otherwise 
some of the prisoners may die of hunger 


52 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


before this added torture is inflicted upon 
them.” 

“Right you are,” declared the king with 
animation. “The banquet shall take place 
to-morrow.” 

Summoning his attendants and court- 
iers, the King gave the necessary orders. 
All were profuse in their praise of the 
king and in their manifestations of delight, 
but in their hearts there was bitter resent- 
ment toward the heartless page who had 
suggested this piece of refined cruelty. 
They were aggrieved to see Gunnar sit- 
ting there happy and smiling while his 
young master, who had always been kind 
to him, was languishing in the tower. Gun- 
nar perceived their thoughts but kept on 
smiling, knowing better than they the 
reason for his smiles. 

“Your Majesty,” he addressed the king, 
“graciously permit me to propose the 
crowning feature of to-morrow's festivi- 
ties.” 

“Out with it,” commanded the king. 

53 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


‘‘Let the entire populace be assembled 
before the main gateway of the castle. 
From the great square they can behold 
the niche over the portals and the dynastic 
casket of the realm. Then let it be pro- 
claimed that whoever opens the casket 
shall receive the kingdom and be at liberty 
to free the prisoners in the tower. Let 
the prisoners also be informed of this so 
that their vain and foolish hopes may 
serve to augment their anguish. But let 
it also be proclaimed that he has forfeited 
his life who attempts to open the casket 
and fails. ,, 

At first this proposal pleased the king, 
but on second thought he wavered and 
grew doubtful. 

“What if some one should succeed,” he 
murmured. ' 

“What chance is there of success?” Gun- 
nar asked. “Only the rightful heir of the 
kingdom can open the casket, and that 
heir is your majesty and he alone! Do 
you not make that claim?” 

54 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


“To be sure,” the king answered hur- 
riedly, frightened at the page’s question 
uttered in the presence of so many. 

“Then, surely, there can be no danger 
that anyone will snatch the kingdom from 
its lawful master,” Gunnar declared. 

“No, no, that is evident. But for that 
very reason no one will venture to risk 
his life, as the magic properties of the 
casket are well known to all,” objected 
the king. 

“Should no one venture the attempt, 
your majesty has only to command and no 
one will dare to refuse,” Gunnar argued. 

This suggestion pleased the king. The 
festivities of the morrow promised to be 
very much to his liking. 

As for Gunnar, he was no less pleased. 
His face was radiant with satisfaction, for 
he fondly hoped that the next day would 
see the kingdom his own and all the prison- 
ers set free. 

On the following day the assembled pop- 
ulace thronged the square before the castle 
55 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


gates. The teeming thousands formed 
a tossing sea of upturned faces from 
which arose a subdued roar of innumer- 
able voices. Visible to all was the iron 
casket in its niche over the main entrance 
to the castle. 

The blare of trumpets and the roll of 
drums announced the coming of the king. 
Throught the wide-flung portals he ap- 
peared, surrounded by his bodyguard and 
courtiers, the train of his royal mantle 
being borne up by Gunnar himself. The 
king halted just outside the gate and com- 
manded that the royal decree should again 
be read. 

A herald stepped forth and proclaimed 
with stentorian voice that whoever desired 
might attempt to open the dynastic casket. 
Success meant the winning of a kingdom ; 
failure meant death. Five minutes only 
would be allotted to each one making the 
attempt. 

A deep silence followed the herald’s 
proclamation. Would anyone be found to 
56 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


stake his life on so desperate a venture? 

Now it is well known that adventurers 
are found in all lands, fortune hunters 
ready to risk their lives for things of far 
less value than a kingdom. They came in 
throngs, enviously vying with each other 
to be the first to climb the ornamental 
stairway to the niche. But how they 
twisted and wrenched, the lid to the casket 
remained unyielding to their efforts. In 
their despair, some removed the key and 
tried to pry the lid open; others kicked 
and hammered, wept and cursed, but all 
to no avail. Every five minutes some poor 
wretch would stagger down the stairs only 
to be succeeded by another eager fortune 
seeker with new plans and new expedients 
for success in his desperate venture. 

And all the while the king stood there 
gloating wickedly. At first he wished to 
put to death at once each unsuccessful 
aspirant for kingly honors; but this Gun- 
nar was fortunate enough to avert. 

“If it please your Majesty/’ Gunnar 

57 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


warned,” the sight of their execution 
would only serve to deter others from 
making the attempt.” 

“Right you are !” exclaimed King Grim, 
and added with a wicked leer: “The delay 
will give me more time to think up a more 
painful mode of death for them.” 

Gradually the eagerness to make the 
perilous venture cooled down, when it was 
seen that the lid of the casket resisted 
every attack however ingenious, and every 
violence however well applied. At last 
there were no more aspirants who dared to 
mount the fatal stairs. The moment for 
which Gunnar waited had come. Taking 
his position in front of the king, he said 
in a voice that carried far and wide : 

“Now, 0 King, it is for you to show 
your power of which these fortune hunters 
in their folly have tried to deprive you. 
Despite all attempts the casket remained 
unopened and will so remain until the law- 
ful ruler of the kingdom turns the key. 
Let the hearts of your subjects be glad- 
58 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


dened by a display of your power to open 
the casket. For who shall open it if not 
your Majesty himself V’ 

Thereupon, when he noticed hesitancy 
and anxiety in the face of the king, Gun- 
nar turned to the people and cried: 

“Whoso fails to concur in this humble 
petition to our great king is a traitor, for 
he questions the lawful rights of his gra- 
cious Majesty.” 

Like a roar of thunder a mighty shout 
of acclaim arose from the vast concourse 
of people in the grand square. 

The king paled and cold perspiration 
beaded his brow, but there was no way of 
escape. The attempt must be made or the 
people would rise in their wrath and thrust 
him from the throne. Many a dark night 
had he made the attempt in deepest secret 
but failed. From these failures he had 
understood that his brother’s child was 
still living. His only hope now was that 
this child had ceased to live since he made 
his last attempt to open the casket. In 
59 


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such case he would now succeed, for the 
kingdom would then be his by right of 
inheritance. 

With as good grace as possible King 
Grim rose up in all his royal dignity and 
proceeded to the arched portal. With 
quaking knees he mounted to the niche. 
The long mantle, which Gunnar no longer 
held up, hung like a curtain before the 
open gate. 

A breathless silence reigned. So great 
was the curiosity aroused that the people 
threatened to trample one another to death 
in their eagerness to learn the secret of the 
miraculous casket. 

The king’s trembling hand laid hold on 
the key and tried to turn it. Strange, 
thought the king ; the lock must be rusted 
or broken. He turned again, first to the 
right, then to the left, then swiftly in both 
directions. He bent and twisted, jerked 
and wrenched with growing anguish, but 
all in vain. By turns he grew red with 
exertion, white with fear, and green with 
60 


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fury, but nothing he could do produced 
any effect on the casket. 

Then an ominous murmur arose among 
the people, vague and soft at first, but 
louder and stronger as time passed. 

Finally with a mighty roar the cry was 
raised: “You are not our lawful king!” 

The king’s heart contracted with horror. 
Wild and furious grew his onslaught on 
the casket, but to no avail. 

At last violent hands were laid on him ; 
he was removed from the niche and cast 
into chains by his own bodyguard. A 
dethroned monarch, he guashed his teeth 
impotently when he beheld the other pris- 
oners released and himself alone in fet- 
ters. 

But now the question arose: “Who is 
our rightful king?” 

“Prince Svenning, let Prince Svenning 
attempt to open the casket,” someone cried, 
and this suggestion instantly won univer- 
sal approval. 

The prince was conducted from the 
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throng of released prisoners and informed 
of the people's wish. But half-dead from 
hunger as he was, he expressed a greater 
desire for a crust of bread than for all the 
wealth and power of the kingdom. Food 
in abundance was given him, which he 
devoured voraciously. With strength re- 
stored, his first thought turned to his 
mother and the other prisoners. Only 
after these had been cared for did he give 
heed to the popular demand. 

He tried to unlocked the casket but 
failed. 

What was now to be done, and who was 
the lawful king? 

Someone recalled that King Grim's elder 
brother, the former king, had a little 
daughter who disappeared the very night 
her father died. She had been considered 
dead and was almost forgotten, but now 
the conviction grew that she must be alive. 
Where was she to be found? The coun- 
sellors of the realm put their wise heads 
together to plan ways and means for her 
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discovery. But all that their combined 
wisdom could compass was to recall that 
her name was Gunhild. 

Meanwhile there was great confusion 
"about the castle gates, in the midst of 
which no one noticed that Gunnar had 
disappeared. Taking advantage of the 
turmoil, he had hastened up to his old 
friend, the chamberlain, who was busy 
with the duties of his office and cared little 
for the uproar at the gates. 

“Chamberlain,” cried Gunnar, bursting 
into the room aglow with eagerness, “pro- 
vide me instantly with a costume suited to 
a princess. Instantly, I say, for there is 
no time to lose.” 

The chamberlain looked up with a smile. 

“Tut, tut, my lad. What prank is this? 
The costume of a princess ! Fine feathers, 
indeed! What royal eagle do you expect 
to bring down by such means?” 

The old chamberlain was the only one 
in the palace who remained calm and self- 
contained during these sad days, for he 
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cherished the firm conviction that all would 
yet be well. 

“They will come out alive,” was the con- 
fident assertion which he had repeated to 
himself over and over again when think- 
ing of the prisoners in the tower. He little 
dreamed that his prediction had already 
come true. 

As Gunnar stood high in his favor, he 
granted the lad’s request and brought from 
the royal wardrobe a silk dress of shim- 
mering white with girdle of gold, and also 
a diadem sparkling with priceless jewels. 

With these the lad disappeared into on 
adjoining chamber where the transforma- 
tion from the page Gunnar to the prin- 
cess Gunhild was soon accomplished. 

When the princess, thus arrayed, pre- 
sented herself to the chamberlain, he al- 
most fell over backwards from sheer won- 
derment and admiration. Gunhild laughed 
merrily and grasped the old man’s hand. 

“Come with me,” she cried, “and you 
shall behold still stranger things.” 

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Meanwhile the uproar and confusion 
about the castle gates grew apace and 
threatened to break out into overt acts 
of violence. But suddenly the masses part- 
ed and a girl clad in white with a spar- 
kling diadem pressed down upon short locks 
of golden hair advanced smilingly along 
the lane formed by the parted masses. Her 
eyes shone with the light of hope, and her 
firm steps bore witness of a heart resolved 
to do or die. 

With movements swift and lithe she 
tripped up the stairway to the niche. There 
she paused a moment and faced the vast 
concourse of people. Her white dress 
shimmered in the bright sun, the jewels 
in her diadem shot fire, and her blue eyes 
sparkled with animation. 

The seething populace grew quiet as if 
by magic. Who was this beautiful girl? 
No one could remember having seen her 
before, but all agreed that she must be a 
princess. Could it be possible that she was 
Gunhild? 

65 


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THE ROYAL PAGE 


Even as her eyes swept over the vast 
assembly, so did the eyes of all, Prince 
Svenning’s among the rest, turn to her 
expectantly. A quick smile, a sudden turn, 
a light touch upon the key, and the casket’s 
heavy lid flew open as if impelled by a 
powerful spring. 

A long-drawn Ah! from the multitude 
greeted this deed which seemed as easy 
for her as it had proved impossible to the 
others. Then a mighty shout of rejoicing 
was borne to the skies. 

“Gunhild, Gunhild, our Princess, our 
Queen ! All hail to Queen Gunhild !” 

As a voice of many waters the glad ac- 
claim beat upon Gunhild standing aloft 
beside the open casket. The massive pre- 
cious stone within glistened in the sun, 
and its flaming inscription could be read 
by all : 

“Right will prevail.” 

When King Grim read the inscription, 
a pang of agony shot through his eyes, and 
from that moment he was blinded for life. 


66 


THE ROYAL PAGE 


Prince Svenning leaped up the stair- 
way to Gunhild and in knightly fashion 
bent his knee before her. 

“Gunhild, my cousin, my queen, why 
have I not seen you before ; from where do 
you come?” 

“You have often seen me before, and I 
come from the royal palace,” she smilingly 
replied. 

He gazed upon her in silent wonder. 

“Do you not recognize me?” she asked 
with a merry laugh. 

“You do indeed resemble some one that 
I have known, but whom I cannot tell.” 

“Is it possible that you do not recognize 
Gunnar?” 

“Gunnar, my page!” he gasped, now 
thoroughly bewildered and peering down 
into the crowd beneath. 

But Gunnar was no longer to be seen. 
Again his gaze rested upon the princess, 
and in a flash it came to him that Gunnar 
looked down upon him from the merry 
blue eyes of the princess. Then he under- 
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stood. A burning blush mantled the brow 
and cheeks of the prince. 

“0 highborn Princess! To think that 
I have ordered you about as one of my 
pages! That you have slept on a rug be- 
fore my chamber door ! How I have broken 
my oath of knighthood in thus dishonor- 
ing a woman !” 

“Do not take it so much to heart,” said 
Gunhild soothingly. “How could you be 
expected to recognize a princess in the 
beggar boy who came as a stranger to your 
father’s castle? You were kind to him, 
and now it will be my pleasure to reward 
you. Arise !” 

She had spoken with much feeling. Obe- 
dient to her command, Svenning arose. 
There they stood, a handsome fair, prince 
and princess, one on each side of the open 
casket. 

Gunhild turned to the people and asked 
if the kingdom was lawfully hers. 

“Ay, Ay,” was the universal cry. 

“If so, I have a right to dispose of it,” 

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she continued. “Prince Svenning is loved 
by all, and a king is better suited to your 
needs than a queen; therefore I hereby 
surrender the kingdom to my cousin, 
Prince Svenning. Let him rule over it 
as seems best to him.” 

With flashing eyes the prince replied: 
“If the kingdom is mine, and I am free to 
do with it as I please, I hereby freely 
return it to Queen Gunhild.” 

The princess cast upon him a look half 
pleading, half challenging and said : “Then 
I give it you back again.” 

“And I a second time return to you what 
is truly yours,” he declared. 

“It is not mine if I give it to you,” she 
persisted. 

And so they continued to toss the king- 
dom back and forth as though it were a 
ball to make sport with. At last they 
were at their wit's end to think that each 
refused what the other would not have, so 
they gave it up in despair. The people 
also grew sad and worried. Would neither 
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youth nor maiden accept the greatest of 
gifts at their hands? They scarcely knew 
which one to prefer. One they surely 
wanted, but why not both? Yes, why not 
both? 

Then the old chamberlain stepped forth 
and addressed the prince and princess : 

“What is there to prevent you both from 
retaining the kingdom. The simplest 
solution is a marriage that will give the 
people both a king and a queen. ‘Tis 
plain that you think much of each other, 
since each would willingly relinquish a 
kingdom to the other.” 

This was a splendid solution of a 
troublesome question. Svenning and Gun- 
hild could not understand why they had 
not thought of it at once. Smiling at 
their own stupidity they clasped hands 
across the dynastic casket, thus publicly 
pledging their troth in the presence of the 
jubilant populace. 

King Grim alone did not rejoice. Fear 
and anguish filled his heart as he stood 


70 


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there momentarily expecting to be put to 
death. But neither Svenning nor Gunhild 
entertained a thought so cruel. Grim, 
now no longer king, was permitted to 
remove to a distant castle where every- 
thing but power and freedom was his to 
enjoy. His sight was never restored. The 
last thing in this world that his eyes had 
looked upon was the flaming inscription 
on the precious stone : “Right will prevail.’' 
These words burned their way into his 
very heart and soul until he fretted him- 
self sick. 

Svenning’s mother, the old queen, was 
gladdened by the restoration of her peri- 
wig. It was planned that she should re- 
main in the royal palace, but it soon became 
apparent that she felt ill at ease. Atten- 
tions and honors were heaped on her, but 
to no avail. At last the secret was dis- 
covered : she yearned for her husband, the 
old dethroned and blinded king. The 
desire of her heart was promptly gratified. 
Happy again, she hastened to the side of 
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her husband, totally forgetful of the fact 
that he had tried to bring about her death 
by starvation. 

King Svenning and Queen Gunhild spent 
many happy years together, ruling wisely 
and well over a happy and properous 
people. 



72 


Tlie Prince of the Isle 
of Felicity 



v 










/ T r HERE was once a king who had two 
A sons. The elder, Fabian, was active 
and smart; Florio, the younger, lived in 
the world of fancy and was a dreamer. 

Their instructor in the practice of arms 
was the king's counsellor. He thought 
much of Fabian, but held Florio in light 
regard. When the king lay on his death- 
bed, he held several consultations with his 
counsellor. The result was that one day 
the king summoned his sons to his bedside 
and spoke to them as follows : 

“Fabian, the crown and the kingdom 
shall be your inheritance. You are sturdy 
75 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


and wide-awake. My land and people will 
be safe in your care, and you will prove 
yourself the bravest of the brave in battle. 
But to you, Florio, poet and dreamer, I 
have bequeathed an inheritance suited to 
your mode of life. I bequeath to you the 
Isle of Felicity, if you can find it. But 
remember, my son, that though dreams 
most beautiful and fair are to be found 
there, the island itself is not to be found 
by idly dreaming your life away.” 

Shortly thereafter the old king died and 
was buried with much pomp and state. 

Fabian ascended the throne and took 
possession of the kingdom. Florio went 
into retirement, sorely grieved that his 
father had not given him even a foot of 
ground that he could call his own. So 
unjust did he consider this that he refused 
to see the counsellor who had given such 
advice to his father. 

King Fabian felt sorry for his brother 
and assigned for his use a large and beauti- 
ful castle. 


76 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


“You had better remain in my king- 
dom, he said, “for in all likelihood your 
own kingdom does not exist. Father must 
have been delirious when he bequeathed 
to you the Isle of Felicity. In all events 
you will never find it by simply sitting 
here and dreaming of it.” 

So Fabian spoke, and Florio took pos- 
session of his castle. He agreed with his 
brother that there was no such island, but 
he could not help thinking and dreaming 
of it night and day. In the summer time, 
when the prince lay on the grass-carpeted 
lawn in the castle park, looking up into 
the leafy crowns of the oak trees, he could 
hear in fancy the dashing of cool waves 
against the shores of his unknown island. 
When evening came, the fleecy clouds in 
the west would shape themselves before 
his wondering eye into a gorgeous royal 
palace with lofty towers and battemented 
walls. But when the twilight faded into 
darkness, his stately palace crashed to 
sudden ruin, and a tear of sadness trickled 

77 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


slowly down his cheek and fell upon his 
velvet coat. 

Just then King Fabian appeared. 

“Are you playing with diamonds V’ he 
cried mockingly, pointing to a glittering 
tear drop. “This will never do, Florio. 
Bestir yourself, take up arms and become 
my second in command. ,, 

“You forget that I am a king, and can 
therefore be second to no man,” the prince 
answered proudly. 

“That’s right; glory in your misty 
island, 0 King of Dreamers!” retorted 
King Fabian spitefully, and departed. 

That night Prince Florio could not sleep. 
The air under the canopy of his bed grew 
close and oppressive. Thrusting aside the 
hangings, he strode with noiseless step 
over the soft carpet to the open window 
and looked out. 

The stars were shining brightly in the 
sky, and as he gazed on them he wondered 
if one of them might not be his Isle of 


78 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


Felicity. If so, he would never reach it 
without the gift of wings. 

All night he stood there by the open 
window, and when the first glow of sunrise 
shot across the sky the yearning of his 
soul found expression in song: 

“0, had I only the wings of the morning, 
Through limitless space I'd fly! 

My heart would rejoice in the songs that 
are wafted 

From Choirs Celestial on high. 

I'd search for and find me the Island of 
Bliss, 

And not sink, as now, into Death's dark 
abyss.” 

“Why must you die?” asked a voice 
under his window. 

Startled out of his revery, the prince 
bent forward to see who had spoken. 

There on the grass under the window 
was seated an old man with snow-white 
locks, and in his hands a golden harp. 
Prince Florio knew well the old minstrel 
who neither had nor wished for a home of 
79 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


his own, but preferred to wander from 
place to place, singing his beautiful songs 
with equal fervor in the hut of a slave or 
the palace of a king. 

The prince unburdened his heart to the 
wise old minstrel, who smiled mysteri- 
ously. 

“Dismiss .your sadness,” he said, “for 
the Isle of Felicity does exist.” 

“How do you know that?” the prince 
asked eagerly. 

“I have been there, in fact I often visit 
it on my wanderings,” the minstrel 
declared. 

“Show me the way,” the prince com- 
manded. 

“That I cannot do; you must find it 
yourself,” replied the minstrel, beginning 
to run his fingers over the strings of his 
harp. Then he sang: 

“Who wanders far but never nears 
The goal for which he yearneth; 

Who well may search a thousand years, 
But finding not, returneth? 

80 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


Tis he — all else but self forgot — 

Who for himself doth labor ; 

Whose plaint is of his own hard lot, 
Forgetful of his neighbor.’' 

“Do you mean to imply that I am such 
a man?” cried Prince Florio wrathfully. 
“Have a care, old man, or I will shatter 
your harp into a thousand pieces.” 

The minstrel’s only reply was to sing: 

“Though shattered by thine anger sharp, 
For thee Twill never palter! 

Truth doth not perish with the harp, 

Its power naught can alter.” 

“You’re a strange old man,” declared 
Prince Florio. “And the strangest of all 
is that I cannot be angry with you. Come, 
tell me what you know about my island. 
But speak in plain prose, for I do not like 
your song.” 

Then the minstrel rose to depart, his 
harp slung over his shoulder. 

“Are you departing without another 
word about my kingdom?” asked the 
81 


The Royal Page. 6 . 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


prince anxiously. And now his voice was 
not imperious but pleading. 

“I have sung to you of your kingdom.” 
the minstrel replied with dignity, “but 
you would not listen to my song.” 

“You have sung only ugly things of me,” 
retorted the prince. 

“I have sung the truth of you,” said 
the minstrel. “See to it that the truth 
concerning yourself may contain better 
things to sing of.” 

The prince turned away in anger. The 
old minstrel prepared to depart, but before 
going he gave the prince this parting 
advice : 

“If you would find your island, you must 
not wait for it to come to you. A dreamer 
and a laggard never yet accomplished any- 
thing in life.” 

Having said this, the minstrel went his 
way, but Florio remained by the open 
window, musing on the old man’s words. 

Later in the day Florio sought an inter- 
view -with his brother. 


82 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


“Fabian,” he said, “grant me a retinue 
suited to a prince, and permit me to set 
out to find and take possession of my 
kingdom.” 

King Fabian granted his brother's 
request. Imposing, indeed, was Prince 
Florio’s retinue : hundreds of valiant war- 
riors in shining armor. But most impos- 
ing in appearance was the prince himself. 
A kingly crown was on his head, and his 
bearing was that of a ruler, though he had 
yet to win for himself a kingdom. 

It was this kingdom he now set out to 
find. But he found only the kingdoms of 
other monarchs with ^hom he waged con- 
stant warfare. His shining armor become 
bloodstained and the number of his fol- 
lowers grew less after every battle. At 
last he encountered so powerful an enemy 
that all his remaining warriors were slain 
and he himself barely escaped with his 
life; his crown lost, his war steed shot 
under him, and his armor hacked 
to pieces. Bleeding from many wounds, 
83 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


he dragged himself into the shade of an 
old firtree to await the coming of death. 

But death did not come. In its stead a 
fair young maiden passed that way. She 
had kind blue eyes and the gladdest of 
smiles. When she caught sight of the 
wounded prince, she hastened to him, 
dressed and bound up his wounds without 
once asking how he had received them, or 
who he was. 

“Do you know that your own country- 
men have given me these wounds?” he 
asked. 

“That was very wicked of them,” the 
maiden declared. 

“Indeed not,” asserted the prince. “They 
but did their duty as I was warring 
against their king.” 

“That was not kind of you,” said the 
maiden gently, all the while continuing to 
bind his wounds. 

“Can you be kind to those who war a- 
gainst your king?” he asked wonderingly. 

“I take pity on all who suffer, and 


84 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


cannot refrain from being kind to them,” 
she replied. ‘'But why did you war a- 
gainst my king?” 

“It is like this,” replied Florio.” I my- 
self am a king, but do not know where to 
find my kingdom. Therefore, whenever 
I come to a new country, I wonder if it 
may possibly be mine. Then I try to win 
it by conquest, and in this I would, of 
course succeed, if it were really mine. 
But hitherto I have always been defeated, 
and now so decisively that I will never 
be able to fight again.” 

So sad and hopeless were the words of 
the prince that tears sprang into the 
maiden’s eyes. 

“Do you know the name of your king- 
dom ?” she asked. She wanted so much to 
help him but did not know just how to go 
about it. 

“The Isle of Felicity.” he replied. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed happily. “ The 
blissful island where all beautiful dreams 
and all good thoughts dwell. I have been, 
there many times.” 85 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


“Then you can show me the way,” the 
prince cried eagerly. 

But the maiden shook her head. 

“That I cannot do; you must find it 
yourself,” she said, just as the old minstrel 
had done. “But you need not grieve over 
the loss of your warriors and weapons, 
for that kingdom is not to be gained by 
conquest.” 

“How, then, is it to be won?” the prince 
asked. 

“That secret you must discover for 
yourself,” she replied. “You must employ 
your eyes, and ears, and all your faculties 
in order to discover it. That you have not 
done hitherto, otherwise you would not 
have warred against so many kings here 
on the mainland. Your kingdom is an 
island, and must therefore be sought on 
the wide sea.” 

“What a fool I have been!” exclaimed 
the prince. “The merest child would hade 
know that much at least.” 

“To be sure,” smiled the maiden. “Set 


86 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


out now for the sea. On your way you 
will discover three lilies in a thicket, three 
swans on a lake, and three stars at the 
edge of a cloud by night. Note them care- 
fully, for all have something to teach you, 
that will speed you on your way to the 
Isle of Felicity.” 

“Many thanks,” said the prince. “When 
I have found my island of bliss, and have 
become its king, I will reward you.” 

“What I have done for you was not in 
hopes of reward,” she replied gently. 

“Would you deny me the privilege of 
being grateful?” the prince asked. 

“By no means,” the maiden declared, as 
she handed him a flower, the most beauti- 
ful flower he had ever seen. “Take this. 
It is the flower of gratitude, and it grows 
on the island of bliss. Keep it and guard 
it well, for it will show you the way. 
Should it begin to fade, you will under- 
stand that you are going astray.” 

Thereupon the maiden departed, but be- 


87 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


fore she disappeared within the forest, she 
turned and waved her hand. 

“When we meet again on the Isle of 
Felicity, I will have to make obeisance to 
you as king,” she cried merrily. 

So skillfully had the maiden dressed the 
prince’s wounds that he was able to set 
out for the sea without delay. But the 
journey proved longer and more difficult 
than he had anticipated, and if the flower 
of gratitude had not remained fresh and 
beautiful, he would often have retraced 
his steps, fearing that he had gone astray. 

The people he met on the way treated 
him as a wandering beggar. If he asked 
for a night’s lodging, he had to sleep in a 
barn or haystack, and the food he obtained 
was mere scraps. How different all this 
from what he had been accustomed to! 
No downy beds and princely fare for him 
now! 

One day when his treatment had been 
unusually severe, and even food had been 
denied him, he seated himself on a 
88 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


boulder in the woods to rest; for he was 
both tired and sad. 

All about him a lonesome stillness 
reigned. His hot cheeks were cooled by a 
gentle breeze burdened with a fragrance 
so sweet that he raised his head to discover 
whence it came. After some search he 
saw three lilies growing in a thicket, but 
so hidden were they that he would never 
have found them if the breeze had not 
borne their fragrance to him. Recalling 
the maiden’s words about the three lilies, 
Florio approached them eagerly and in- 
quired what they could tell him about the 
way to the Isle of Felicity. 

The lilies did not answer, for lilies 
cannot speak; but they did what they 
could — they exhaled fragrance. Now as 
Prince Florio stood there inhaling their 
sweet odors, he began to understand their 
message just as well as if they had spoken 
it. 

The first lily seemed to say: “We stand 
in a thicket so dense that no one can see 


89 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


us, but we are genuine lilies nevertheless.” 

The second lily’s message was: “As we 
are lilies, we must exhale fragrance, and 
our fragrance penetrates even the densest 
thicket.” 

The message of the third lily was : “Our 
fragrance comes from within and reveals 
our nature.” 

Then the prince understood that the 
way to the Isle of Felicity was no common 
road. All depended on his own inner 
nature, if from his heart could come noble 
thoughts, pure emotions, and beautiful 
dreams revealing the fact that he was 
indeed king of the island of bliss where 
these virtues dwell. And just as the lilies 
exhaled their fragrance, though they stood 
in a thicket where no one could see them, 
so he must be good and noble, though un- 
observed and pursued by adversity. 

Musing thus, Florio plucked the lilies 
and went on his way, pondering deeply 
the lessons they had taught him. 

Toward evening he arrived at the pret- 
90 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 

tiest little lake bedded in the woods. The 
setting sun mirrored its golden rays in the 
glassy surface. Florio stopped to enjoy 
the pretty picture. 

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of some- 
thing white moving among the green reeds 
near the farther shore, and presently 
three swans glided out into the lake. Their 
progress was slow and stately, and when 
the last rays of the sun fell upon them, a 
rain of gold showered their white feathers. 

Never had Florio seen swans so beauti- 
ful. One was larger than the other two, in 
all likelihood the mother of two nearly 
full-grown young. The prince noted them 
well, for he remembered that the maiden 
had spoken of three swans on a lake. 

Suddenly the larger swan grew restless, 
bent her long, sinuous neck, and peered 
into the woods. Prince Florio could not 
detect any cause of alarm, but the swan 
mother had heard and seen the approach 
of danger. She interposed her body be- 
tween her young and the shore, ruffled 
91 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


out her feathers, and lowered her head, 
ready to defend her young at all cost. 

An arrow whizzed through the air, and 
the swan mother's white feathers were 
colored red by her own blood. 

Swans are dumb through life, but it is 
said that at the moment of death they are 
suddenly endowed with the gift of song. 
And never in his life had Florio heard 
anything more beautiful than the song 
that reached him over the lake this sunset 
hour. So beautiful, so entrancing was the 
swan song that«all other sounds grew still, 
the sun lingered in its setting, the hunter 
forgot that he had other arrows in his 
quiver, and the two young swans lay 
motionless on the surface of the water. 

Standing on his own side of the lake, 
Prince Florio listened breathless, lest he 
lose a single tone of the swan song. It 
was too brief, for soon the swan was dead. 

For some moments the silence of death 
pervaded all nature, and the light of the 
sun was blotted out. An evening breeze 
92 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


rippled the surface of the lake, wafting 
to the feet of Florio one of the white 
feathers of the dead swan. A stain of 
blood had tinted it. Florio picked up the 
feather and kept it in memory of the swan 
and her dying song. Proceeding on his 
way, the prince meditated upon a love 
that can sacrifice its all, its very life, for 
that was the burden of the song the swan 
had sung: 

“To offer life for one beloved 
Is sweeter far than to be living. — 
But king is he on th’ Isle of Bliss, 

Who toward his foe is e’er forgiving.” 

Thus had the swan sung, and Florio 
now understood that he must love if he 
would find his happy kingdom. Self-sacri- 
ficing love was the lily fragrance that must 
be wafted from his heart and reveal the 
noble nature of a king. 

All night long Prince Florio journeyed 
and came to the sea just as the sun arose. 

Shading the eyes with his hand, he 
eagerly looked out over the waters, won- 
93 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


dering if somewhere on the wide expanse 
he might catch a glimpse of his island. 
But all he could see was sea and sky, and 
the morning haze glowing in the rays of 
the rising sun. 

There was no boat on the shore. What 
was he to do? Perhaps he had not come 
to the right place after all. He brought 
forth the flower of gratitude to see if it 
had commenced to fade; but it had not, 
so the prince knew that he had come the 
right way. 

Then he produced the three lilies and the 
swan’s feather, and as he stood holding 
them in his hand, a strange thing hap- 
pened. The swan’s feather waxed and 
grew until it become a large white sail; 
the lilies unfolded and enlarged their 
chalices, and with stems intertwined 
formed a graceful boat large enough to 
bear Prince Florio. 

Stepping into the lily boat, the prince 
raised the white sail and glided from 
shore into the morning light. 


94 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


All day long he sailed, and when eve- 
ning come he was so far out to sea that not 
a glimpse of land was visible in any direc- 
tion. Night fell, the wind grew stronger; 
a storm was brewing out at sea. He won- 
dered if he had come so far only to perish 
at last in the waves. 

The thought of death troubled him. He 
looked up into the sky and there he saw 
three bright stars on the edge of a storm 
cloud. 

As he sat musing on what the stars 
might mean to him, the storm cloud blotted 
them from his sight. But after a few 
minutes they peeped out at the opposite 
edge of the cloud, and seemed even 
brighter than before. Hush ! They seem 
to have a message for him: 

“Though all the clouds of heaven mass 
to hide us, they cannot quench our light. 
Though the shades of death encompass 
you, they cannot blot out the life within, 
for your soul is immortal.” 

Now Prince Florio was no longer afraid, 


95 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


though the storm grew furious and tossed 
his lily boat as a chip upon the raging 
waters. He need fear death no more than 
the stars the threatening cloud. 

Suddenly a cry of distress was heard, 
and Prince Florio espied a form battling 
with the waves. 

“I cannot save him,” thought the prince. 
“My boat is too small to bear more than 
myself.” 

But just then the three stars twinkled 
brightly, and Florio called to mind their 
message. His soul was immortal; what 
need, then, to fear death! And so he 
steered his frail craft nearer to the man 
in distress. 

But when he had drawn near, he recog- 
nized his only enemy, the counsellor, at 
whose advice the dying king had given 
Florio no share in the kingdom. 

“Him will I never save,” was the 
prince’s first thought. 

Instantly a heavy gust of wind snapped 
the swan’s feather serving as a sail. Then 

96 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


Florio called to mind the swan who had 
offered her life, and again he heard the 
swan song: 

“To offer life for one beloved 
Is sweeter far than to be living. — 

But king is he on tlT Isle of Bliss, 

Who toward his foe is e’er forgiving.” 

The prince hesitated no longer, but 
reached out his hand and pulled the coun- 
sellor into the boat. 

The storm abated, the sea grew calm, 
and the first glow of dawn lit up the east. 
With bated breath and throbbing heart 
Prince Florio sat waiting for the coming 
of day, for now he felt certain that he was 
approaching his island at last. 

The sound of music reached his ears. 
An invisible choir was singing to the ac- 
companiment of tinkling harp strings. 
Now he caught the words of the song: 

“Well ’tis to find the way that is hidden, 
Better, to walk it with courage unbidden. 
Well ’tis to know the sweet import of love, 
Better, to practice its gift from above. 

97 


The Royal Page. 7 . 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 

Hail thee, fair youth, who hate dost not 
cherish, 

Succors thy foe when he's ready to perish. 
On thee o'er billows the goal now doth 
smile ; 

Come, be the King of Felicity's Isle ! 

A wonderful radiance spread over the 
sea, and to the peal of silver bells and the 
sweet harmonies of Aeolian harps a sun- 
bathed island rose from the waves. 

The storm had vanished, and a gentle 
breeze wafted the lily boat to the shore. 
As Prince Florio stepped ashore he was 
met by a long procession of beautiful, 
shining forms. They were all the beauti- 
ful dreams, all the good thoughts, all the 
pure emotions, all the noble acts of which 
man is capable. They smiled their greet- 
ings upon the prince and hailed him as 
king. When he had rescued his enemy 
from a watery grave, they had sung a 
song more beautiful even than the swan 
song, and now when rescuer and rescued 
looked into each other's eyes, they could 
behold there a love stronger than death. 


98 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


“Prince Florio,” the counsellor said, “I 
ought to ask your forgiveness for the 
advice I gave your father concerning you, 
but I see now that it has brought you 
happiness. Better far to be king here 
than to rule over the mightiest kingdom 
on earth. You have obtained the better 
inheritance.” 

“That I have,” declared Florio joyfully. 

So he passed up from the shore, and 
wherever he came, homage and warm 
welcome were extended to him. 

The old minstrel sat under a tree, play- 
ing upon his harp and singing one of his 
most beautiful songs of truth, and this 
time Prince Florio liked the song, for he 
had learned to love truth. 

Further along he met the maiden who 
had dressed his wounds. Smiling she 
made him the deepest of curtsies. 

“I was right when I declared that we 
would soon meet again, and I would hail 
you as king,” she said smiling. 

Florio smiled in return and extended 


99 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


to her the flower of gratitude she had once 
given him. It had by this time grown and 
budded so profusely that she could now 
twine a whole wreath from its blossoms. 

There were many other people on the 
island, people who had dreamed beautiful 
dreams, thought good thoughts, felt pure 
emotions, and done noble deeds. All had 
free access to the island, and they in- 
formed Florio that he who had once put 
« foot on the island could easily find his way 
to it again. 

Many of the dreams, thoughts, emo- 
tions, and acts that dwelt on the island 
were airier and more pellucid than the 
rest, and had a look of yearning about 
them. These were the dreams yet un- 
dreamed, the thoughts yet unthrought, the 
emotions yet unfelt, and the acts yet un- 
done. They seemed to have been waiting 
for Florio, for they flocked around him 
and pleaded for permission to accompany 
him when he should return to the world 
of human beings again, for this he must) 

100 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


do, though he had become King of the 
Isle of Felicity. For be it known that no 
one could remain on the island in slothful 
inactivity. If anyone were guilty of this, 
the island would vanish, and he himself 
would sink into the sea. This is what had 
happened to the counsellor when he was 
rescued by Florio. — No. One was only 
permitted to visit the island for a period 
of rest, and to bring away from there new 
dreams, thoughts, emotions, and deeds. 

When Prince Florio returned to the 
kingdom of his brother Fabian, he had 
with him not a single man of the glittering 
band of warriors that had set out with 
him, but in its stead he was followed by 
an invisible host of spirits from the Isle 
of Felicity. Little by little Florio through 
his words and actions gave life and actu- 
ality to these airy creatures, and thereby 
became his country's greatest poet, wisest 
thinker, and the noblest of her sons. 

His brother Fabian no longer laughed 
at him, nor called him the dream-sick 
101 


THE ISLE OF FELICITY 


king of a misty island. Instead, he one 
day frankly declared: 

“I see that you really have found the 
Isle of Felicity and that you are its king, 
for all beautiful dreams, good thoughts, 
pure emotions, and noble actions do hom- 
age to you as their Lord and Master. 
Gladly would I exchange kingdoms with 
you, for I see now that to you fell the best 
inheritance: The Isle of Felicity. 



102 


The King and the 
Goatherd. 




T HERE was once a king so powerful 
that millions of human lives were sub- 
ject to his will, and so rich that the treas- 
ure vaults of the royal palace were full to 
overflowing with gold and precious 
jewels. Rich also beyond all others was 
the king in flatterers. All his deeds were 
praised as examples of the highest nobili- 
ty; all his words were expressions of 
profoundest wisdom. And yet the king 
was not happy. He lived in constant fear 
of impending evil. Robbers might carry 
off his wealth ; his courtiers might tire of 
flattering him; his very greatness and 
power might cause his downfall by arous- 
ing envy and placing a murderous dagger 
in the hand of some assassin. He never 
ventured forth alone, but was always 
105 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


surrounded by a large bodyguard whose 
trumpet calls and drum beats should cheer 
the king and ward off all intruders. As 
he considered it beneath his royal dignity 
to walk, he always rode in a state carriage 
with the result that lack of exercise caused 
him to suffer from a sluggish liver and 
insomnia. 

At last his fear became so overmaster- 
ing that he grew seriously ill. All the 
physicians in the kingdom were summond 
for consultation. They made a thorough 
examination, put their ears to his chest, 
and tapped his poor body until he was 
sore all over. Then they precribed. One 
advised a water cure, another declared 
that not a drop of water must touch his 
body. One said that he must keep per- 
fectly quiet, another was just as positive 
that he needed plenty of exercise. There 
was not a watering place in the realm 
that he was not advised to try; and so 
many prescriptions were written that the 
royal library had to be enlarged in order 
106 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


to contain them all. Growing frantic, the 
king dismissed all his physicians and felt 
seven times worse than before. Then he 
proclaimed a large reward for the indi- 
vidual, high or low, who could suggest an 
effective cure. The result was that he 
was so overwhelmed with household reme- 
dies that his ill health was increased 
seven-fold. 

One day he was suddenly seized with 
longing to revisit the forest where he had 
spent childhood’s happy days, free from 
anxiety and blest with the gift of dream- 
less sleep. He called out his bodyguard 
with their drums and trumpets; ordered 
his sumptuous state carriage, drawn by 
eight black horses; summoned to his side 
an old pensioned yeoman of the guard, 
who had been his personal attendant in 
childhood, and with this great following 
he set out in state from the city to the 
forest. 

“Why are we so slow in reaching The 
forest?” the king inquired fretfully. 


107 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


“Your Majesty, we have been driving 
through the forest for more than an hour,” 
the old yeoman assured him. 

“Then why are the trees so sparse?” 
he demanded. 

“Your Majesty, it is necessary for us to 
travel on the great highways in order that 
your bodyguard may have ample room to 
surround the carriage and protect your 
royal person,” the yeoman informed him. 

“Then I will mount my horse, and let 
the bodyguard follow in single file,” com- 
manded the king. 

The necessary orders were given; the 
king was helped into the saddle, and the 
entire cavalcade detoured from the high- 
way into a narrow forest path. Here the 
trees stood so close and dense that their 
branches interlaced over the king’s head. 
But still his majesty was not satisfied. 

“In the forest of my childhood there 
were birds caroling in the trees,” he 
mused reminiscently. 

“Your Majesty, the music of. trumpets 
108 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 

and drums drowns the songs of the birds,” 
explained the yeoman. 

”Then let the music cease,” the king 
ordered. 

The order was given and obeyed. The 
king listened and was able to catch faintly 
the song of birds in the distance, but when 
the cavalcade drew nearer, the singing 
ceased only to be renewed far ahead. 

“The birds fly from me. That they 
never did in my childhood’s forest,” mut- 
tered the king gloomily. 

“Your Majesty, the birds flee before the 
tramp of hundreds of horses,” said the 
yeoman. 

“Let the bodyguard remain behind, and 
do you alone follow me,” the king com- 
manded. 

The bodyguard halted, and the king rode 
on with his faithful attendant. 

I am determined to find my cildhood’s 
forest,” declared the king. 

“Your Majesty, this is the self-same 
forest of your childhood,” protested the 
yeoman. 109 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


“Impossible !” protested the king. “I 
do not recognize it at all. There the sky 
was bluer and the sun brighter; there the 
trees were greener and the song of the 
birds more joyous.” 

At that moment a song was heard near 
by; not the song of a bird, but the fresh 
young voice of a child. The king reined in 
his horse to listen, and the yeoman followed 
his example. This was the song they heard 
as sung in the flute-like tones that are the 
special gift of childhood: 

Yes, I am small, and I'm poor most surely ; 
My tattered jacket protects me poorly. 
But genial sunshine gives warmth to me; 
E’en in the forest the sun I see. 

So why then worry, or why be sad? 


When all the earth nightly shadows cum- 
ber, 

I have no cottage wherein to slumber. 
But forest trees form my canopy — 
Could airier chamber there ever be? 

So why then worry, or why be sad? 


110 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


My heart is merry and soft the heather, 

My poverty is no shackling tether; 

My sleep is sounder than any king's 
Who fears his riches may soon take wings. 
So why then worry, or why be sad? 

Though poor I be, 'tis no loss so cruel ; 

The sun's my gold, and each star my jewel. 
More priceless are they than royal wealth ; 
More freedom have I, and more of health. 
So why then worry, or why be sad? 

The tongue of flatterer ne’er can reach 
me; 

For soughing forest the truth doth teach 
me. 

The warbling birds are my heart's delight, 
The rushing torrents enchant my sight. 
So why then worry, or why be sad? 

I may seem lonely while here I wander 
To guard my goats that are grazing' 
yonder. 

But heaven's angels keep watch to see 
That danger never comes nigh to me. 

So why then worry, or why be sad? 

When the song ceased, the king dis- 
mounted and went in search of the un- 


111 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


seen singer, who could not be far away. 
Sure enough, there sat a little bright- 
eyed, barefooted lad perched on a rock 
under the green canopy of a birch. A 
number of goats grazed around him. The 
lad gazed wonderingly upon the king. The 
goats lifted their heads, bleated, and 
flocked around their young protector. A 
diminutive kid hid between his knees, 
another clambered upon his shoulders, and 
still others leaped upon the rock, pushing 
and crowding each other in their eagerness 
to find a place of safety. At this pleasant 
sight the king’s lips twitched with a smile, 
a thing that had not happened to him for 
years. 

“Who taught you the song you were 
singing?” the king asked. 

“No one. I merely sing what comes 
into my mind,” the goatherd answered, 
smiling with a pretty show of white teeth. 

“Who has told you that the king is wor- 
ried about his riches?” 

“All say so.” 


112 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


“All!” repeated the king suspiciously, 
and a deep frown gathered upon his fore- 
head. “What did you mean by saying that 
you never listen to flattery? Who do you 
think cares for such things?” 

“They say that the king cannot live 
without it,” the lad answered. 

“Who flatters the king?” 

“All do.” 

“What! Do you dare to say that all 
are lying flatterers who say that the king 
is the richest, mightiest, wisest, and 
noblest man that ever lived?” the king 
inquired with menacing, black looks. 

“Is he rich,” the lad asked simply, “who 
has not one sincere friend; is he mighty 
whose nights are sleepless from anxiety; 
is he wise who accepts flattery as truth; 
is he noble who lives but for himself 
alone?” 

“You speak boldly. Do you know who 
I am?” 

“No.” 

“I am the king.” 

113 


The Royal Page. 8. 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 

”Ah!” cried the lad rising and freeing 
himself from the kids. 

He bowed deeply, but seemed more in- 
terested than awed by the king's presence, 
much to the discomfiture of the latter. 

“What! You do not tremble though 
you have uttered such words to my face?" 

“I would tremble if I had spoken un- 
truthfully," the goatherd calmly replied. 

“Down on your knees!" thundered the 
king as he lifted his sword. 

The lad knelt obediently and looked up 
at the king with the frank, unblinking 
eyes of a child. 

“What! Have you no fear of my 
sword?" the king sputtered, delaying, 
however, to strike. 

“I fear God alone," the goatherd an- 
swered. 

“Don’t you realize that I can kill you 
instantly, if I will? 

“God can protect me, if He wills," the 
lad declared artlessly. 

The king lowered his sword. His anger 


114 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


disappeared, and with a strange yearning 
in his heart he contemplated the trustful, 
innocent face of the boy before him. 

“Would that I could change places with 
you!” the king whispered to himself. 

Turning his back upon the boy, he left 
abruptly. He found his faithful attendant 
waiting for him, and leaping into the 
saddle, he spurred off to the, place where 
he had left his large escort. Then enter- 
ing his carriage with its eight black horses, 
and surrounded by his bodyguard, he 
journeyed back to his palace along the 
great highway, pondering deeply upon 
something that seemed to trouble his 
mind. All wondered what had come over 
the king ; no one guessed that for the first 
time he had heard the truth about him- 
self. 

The king had feared everyone but God. 
and where had it led him? To the very 
brink of abject fear. The goatherd had 
feared no one but God, and where had it 
led him? To a peace and trust that made 
115 


I 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 

it possible for him to look death in the 
eye without blinking. 

The king continued to ponder and brood. 
The court jesters cracked their funniest 
jokes, and the courtiers exerted all their 
powers of flattery to dissipate the king's 
gloom, but he paid no heed to them. At 
last he sent for the goatherd whom he bade 
to sing for him. He questioned the lad 
about many things and always recieved 
the truth for an answer. This medicine 
was often quite bitter, but it produced a 
remarkable effect. The king began to 
fear God instead of man with the result 
that uneasiness and fear fled from his 
heart. He began to worry less about the 
possibility of being robbed of his riches 
than about his ability to use them rightly. 
The overflowing treasure vaults were 
emptied to relieve poverty, and instead of 
flattery the king began to receive the bless- 
ings of the poor. He was no longer afraid 
of the assassin's dagger ; rather he feared 
that he might be guilty of an unrighteous 
judgment. hq 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


The king soon adopted the goatherd as 
his foster son. He lived in the palace, 
wore the finest of court costumes, and ate 
his meals from dishes of solid gold. He 
was permitted to play with princes and 
princesses in a garden teeming with 
beautiful flowers. He feasted his eyes on 
goldfishes in artificial lakes and gaily col- 
ored birds in gilded cages. The goatherd 
honestly tried to make himself believe 
that he enjoyed all this, but he grew daily 
paler and more silent in the midst of all 
this splendor. 

One day he was summoned into the pres- 
ence of the king. 

“You have discovered the right cure for 
my disease,” the king informed him 
kindly, “and as you know, I have promised 
a great reward to him who could do this. 
I am rich and powerful; ask of me what 
you desire.” 

A flash of joy lit up the lad's face at 
these words, and he smiled as he had not 
smiled since the day he entered the king’s 
palace. m 


THE KING AND THE GOATHERD 


“Your Majesty,” he said. “There is but 
one thing that I desire. Permit me to 
return to my goats and my freedom in the 
forest.” 

The king was greatly amazed, and so 
was his entire court; but the goatherd 
remained firm in his request. The king 
regretted that he had given his royal word, 
for now there was nothing for him to do 
but to let the lad go, however much he 
had learned to love him. 

0, how the goats and kids skipped and 
bleated with delight when their little 
keeper returned to them! And he! Now 
he could sing again his songs of rejoicing. 
In the palace he had often sung his best 
songs so languidly that the king failed to 
recognize them. 

The goatherd was often visited by the 
king, who loved to hear him sing and to 
converse with him. Now, too, the king 
had found and recognized the forest of his 
childhood for he had recovered many of 
the sweet memories of childhood since the 
goatherd taught him to fear no one but 
God alone. ns 



Forest. 


* ? 






T HE winter day had been clear and 
cold. Now the sun was low in the west, 
and flamed as a witch's fire among the 
straight-stemmed pine trees in the forest. 
The crusted snow blanket gleamed white 
in the twilight and a few bright stars had 
lit their candles in the sky. Small dark 
objects could be seen moving about over 
the snow. These were children on skis. 
Their merry voices were the only sounds 
heard in the quiet winter evening. They 
were playing a game called “No Robber 
in the Forest." 

“It's time for us to go home," declared 
Ebba, a little seven year old girl, and the 
youngest of the children. 

“Nonsense!" cried the others in chorus. 
“Yes it is," maintained Ebba, “at least 
for Hugo and myself, for papa said that 
we must be home before sundown, and we 
have already stayed too long." 

121 


“2V0 ROBBER IN THE FOREST” 


The other children looked questioningly 
at Hugo. 

“Perhaps we had better all go,” they 
said. 

“Certainly not. Papa didn’t mean it,” 
Hugo asserted positively. 

Ebba shot a puzzled look at her brother. 
How could he know that papa had not 
meant what he said? Her look made 
Hugo feel somewhat ill at ease. 

“Can’t you see that the sun isn’t down 
yet?” he asked impatiently. 

“But we should be home before sun- 
down,” Ebba reminded him. 

Hugo did not care to answer her. In- 
stead he turned to one of the boys and 
said: “To the forest with you, Axel, and 
hide! We’ll play one more round of the 
game, then we will go home.” 

Ebba looked at the sun and thought that 
it was sinking very fast. She felt that she 
ought to go home alone, but persuaded 
herself that she did not dare to go the long 
distance across the lake without Hugo. 
When Axel was hidden in the forest, and 
the other children rushed up from the 
shore, she followed them. The game was 
too tempting to resist. 

122 


“NO ROBBER IN THE FOREST ” 


“No robber in the forest! No robber 
in the forest !” cried the children in 
chorus, and skied forward among the 
tress, looking sharply in all directions for 
the robber, Axel, who lay in hiding, ready 
to seize anyone who could not flee back 
to the ice for safety. 

“So there is no robber in the forest !” 
cried a harsh voice, as a swarthy man sud- 
denly appeared among the frightened 
children. ‘Til show you that there is, and 
next time you’ll not be so sure.” 

Before the children realized what was 
happening, he had caught up Ebba roughly 
and started off at top speed into the depths 
of the forest. He, too had skis, and in 
less than a minute he had vanished from 
sight with his burden. 

Then, finally, the children seemed to 
wake as from a bad dream. Some began 
to sob and cry, and all fled on their skis 
in wildest panic down to the shore. But 
suddenly Hugo stopped. 

“Ebba must be saved,” he cried. 

“We can’t save her; we must bring 
help,” declared one of the boys. 

“I’ll not go home without Ebba; I’ll 


123 


“NO ROBBER IN THE FOREST” 


chase that robber," Hugo declared with 
determination. 

“Then the robber will get you too !" 

“Let him do it if he can!” was Hugo's 
reply. 

All efforts at dissuasion failed. Hugo 
started off into the forest. None of the 
others dared to follow him, all hastening 
home to summon assistance. 

With heart full of sorrow, anxiety, and 
rage, Hugo followed the robber's ski-tracks 
farther and farther into the depths of the 
forest. How still all nature seemed, and 
how loud the accusing voice within : “Why 
are you always so stubborn? If you had 
obeyed and gone home in time, this would 
not have happened." 

The accusing voice within grew more 
insistent and terrible. The forest was 
fearfully eery, and the night rife with 
ghostly shadows. An overwhelning feel- 
ing of loneliness and remorse laid hold on 
the poor boy. Pulling his feet from the 
ski straps, he knelt down in the snow. 

“Dear God, forgive me and help me find 
Ebba !" he prayed. 

Then he arose, put on his skis, and 
pressed on. Briny tears filled his eyes so 

124 


“NO ROBBER IN THE FOREST” 


that he did not perceive the little creature 
trudging toward him through the deep 
snow. But though she noticed him, she 
did not at first recognize him. To her 
startled imagination he appeared to be 
some huge monster rushing upon her 
through the gathering darkness. Full 
of panic, she crept in among the thick 
branches of a giant pine to hide herself. 
The pine needles were sharp, and the snow 
cold ; but worse than all was the fear that 
filled her heart, until the ski-runner came 
opposite her. 

’’Hugo!” she cried jubilantly. 

Hugo stopped short, and with mingled 
feelings of joy and amazement he stood 
watching a strange little ragamuffin come 
crawling from beneath the drooping 
branches of the pine. The voice that had 
called him was Ebba’s but that was as far 
as the similarity went. He knew that Ebba 
had worn a cap, muff, and coat all of 
silver-gray fur; but the little girl con- 
fronting him was clad in a threadbare 
jacket, a short skirt that hung in tatters, 
and her head was tied up in a dirty rag. 
But when she reached him, she threw 
herself into his arms and looked up into 
125 


“NO ROBBER IN THE FOREST” 

his face with a pair of eyes that were not 
to be mistaken. 

“Ebba, is it really you?” Hugo ex- 
claimed in a tone that trembled with relief 
and happiness. 

“Of course it’s I!” she declared. “Oh, 
Hugo, I have been among the ogres, and 
they made me change clothes with one of 
the ogre brats.” 

“What did the ogres look like?” asked 
Hugo skeptically. 

“0, they were so black and dirty, and 
they sat around a huge fire chattering and 
laughing wickedly.” 

“Yes, yes, I see,” said Hugo. “But they 
were only gypsies. I remember now; I 
heard yesterday that there was a band of 
gypsies in the neighborhood.” 

While chatting thus, the two children 
had turned back toward the lake. There 
progress was slow, for they had but one 
pair of skis, as the gypsies had taken 
Ebba’s. Hugo let her have his pair while 
he plowed through the snow beside her. 
It was a tiresome tramp for him, as he 
often had to fight his way through huge 
drifts. Suddenly he stopped and stood 
listening intently. Ebba turned pale as 

126 


“NO ROBBER IN THE FOREST ” 


death and threw herself panic-stricken 
into his arms. They could hear noises in 
the forest ahead of them. Presently the 
flash of lanterns appeared among the 
trees, and voices could be distinguished. 
But that very instant fear and dread gave 
place to inexpressible relief and happi- 
ness. 

“Papa, papa !” both cried as they rushed 
into their father’s arms. For he it was 
who led the rescuing party. 

“What in the world is this?” he ex- 
claimed, looking wide-eyed at Ebba. 

In the first moment of happy reunion 
he had not observed what a little raga- 
muffin he was holding in his arms. Not 
until then did Ebba remember her dis- 
reputable attire, and the astonished 
glances of the men made her feel so a- 
shamed that she hid her face on her 
father’s shoulder. Father, however, was 
not ashamed of his little girl, but took her 
to his breast, wrapped his great fur coat 
about her, and started off for home with 
his precious burden. Hugo skied along 
by his side and related how it had all hap- 
pened. As the story proceeded, Ebba 
could feel how her father’s arms tightened 
about her. -, 97 


“NO ROBBER IN THE FOREST” 


“It was just on account of the gypsies 
that I forbade you to go far into the forest 
and to stay out after sundown/’ he ex- 
plained. 

“Forgive us,” begged Ebba, and Hugo 
joined in her prayer. It had always been 
hard for Hugo to ask for forgiveness, but 
now he felt a real need of doing so. 

“I forgive you gladly,” father replied. 
“But remember, be on your guard against 
disobedience, for those who disobey do 
not always get off so easily. You merely 
lost your good clothes. You may lose your 
very soul by disobedience, remember 
that.” 

Soon they were skimming over the froz- 
en surface of the lake. On the other 
shore the welcome lights of home were 
beckoning, and overhead the stars were 
lighting them on their way. A feeling of 
perfect safety and supreme content filled 
Ebba’s heart as she snuggled her head 
against the warm neck of her father. 

When in subsequent years she heard 
wtell frf aJpy|$g Father’s tender care of His 
xhilcfrferifshe recalled this night, and found 
no difficulty in believing it. 









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